How I Spent my Maternity Leave

Where the birth story ends and the adventure begins...

The gold stars were recently taken down from Cece's house.  In December my friends threw me a fantastic "celebrity themed" baby shower at Cece's house (which is right down the street from my house) and bright gold stars adorned her doorway.  I love that she kept them up, a small reminder of the final days of my pregnancy.  All of the anticipation, fear, excitement, and questions.  After bringing Jack home from the hospital, seeing them when I drove up the street reminded me that he was still new.  But recently they came down, fitting in a way since I go back to work this week and it's time to move on from the scared, anxious mom I was to the confident, brave working mother I'm to become.

12 weeks.

It passed in the blink of an eye.  Hardly enough time to establish a regular routine, but when I think of the changes Jack's made in 12 weeks, it seems like an eternity.  Where there were no eye lashes, there are now long curly ones.  The 5 lb baby I brought home has been replaced by a chubbier 12 lb baby with dimples where his knuckles will be (kitty dishes as my mom calls them) and a proper double chin.  I get glimpses of the little boy he will become, but for now, he's still my cuddly baby who grips onto my shirt as I take him for tours around the house showing him different rooms.  Poor winter babies hardly get a glimpse of the outside so we need to make inside an adventure for him.

So how did I spend those 12 weeks?  They say when you give birth, you are reborn yourself and in many ways I believe that's true.  I am not exactly the same person I was on January 6th.  I'll begin where my journey ended- with forgiveness. 

I asked my body to forgive me.

In the days that followed Jack's birth, I was unbearably hard on myself.  I was still wearing my maternity pants, my wedding ring didn't fit and where there once was a round basketball under my shirt, I was softer with the ghost of that precious passenger still lingering there.  Two weeks ago I stood in a dressing room wearing pants in a size I have never been and looked at myself honestly for the first time.  I looked at the curve of my hips and the fullness of my breasts.  I thought of my beautiful healthy baby at home.  Staring right at my reflection, I just kept thinking over and over again, "I'm sorry."  And, "thank you." The roundness of my hips helped me deliver my baby quickly and without any complications.  My breasts contain all the nourishment he'll need for months.  My body is a miracle machine that couldn't be replicated by any engineer.  It created life. 

Trevor always says he provided the blueprints and I took over from there.  Looking at Jack, I can honestly say we are quite possibly the finest architects in the world.  The words of my beloved Tim Gunn rang in my ears that day.  People will never know the number on the tag of your clothing so wear clothing that fits you and makes you feel great.  Thank you Uncle Tim.  He's so right!  So I learned never to say "I'll never wear that size again!"  Because it really doesn't matter.  My body is a miracle and I should start loving it more and judging it less.

I learned to live consciously. 

With my return to work date hanging over my head I learned to be fully conscious of each moment.  For my wedding, my mom shared with me a prayer by Anne Morrow Lindbergh:

"God, let me be conscious of it!  Let me be conscious of what is happening while it is happening.  Let me realize it and feel it vividly.  Let not the consciousness of the event (as happens so often) come to me tardily, so that I miss the experience.  Let me be conscious of it!

There were many times when dishes sat in the sink and phones went unanswered because we were sleeping together or I was feeding him.  Calls can be returned and dishes can be washed later, but my baby is sleeping on me now and I will never regret letting the world pass us by while I watched his chest move up and down and stroked his head while he smiled in his sleep. I found out how best to rub his head while he was nursing, I finally hit just the right tone of voice to make him smile.  We danced in the living room to "September" by Earth Wind and Fire on more than one occasion.  I don't regret a single minute of this past 12 weeks, I have sustained my baby using nothing but my body for nearly a year.  I understand now the bond between mother and child.  I will positively lose it the next time I watch Dumbo.  If you mess with my baby, you might as well lock me up in chains too.  (I'll never be able to hear "Baby Mine" without a waterfall happening :)

I think the biggest fear of a mother who works outside of the home is that she'll miss something.  I have to remind myself that you could easily miss something while you are in the next room over and that if you live consciously you won't miss a thing.  As parents, "firsts" are a big thing.  I may miss one of his firsts, but when that thought makes me sad,  I think back to 1/7/11.  I was there for his first breath.  Everything he does for the rest of his life is one miraculous extension of that moment.  So God, let me be conscious and present for the moments I am there.

I loved my husband more, I probably showed him less.

During the most fragile, precarious, first weeks of a human's life, they are entrusted to the care of delirious, sleep-deprived parents.  Seems like a recipe for disaster, no?  I absolutely fell more in love with Trevor, but I know there were times when I looked at him, frustrated and exhausted when we couldn't find a way to get the baby to sleep like "why can't you figure it out already?!"  We married each other for many reasons, not the least of which was how intelligent we thought the other person was, but when it came to raising Jack, both of us felt like dummies many times.  Trevor, I know you're reading this.  You are the most wonderful human being I know.  I get tears in my eyes because my words cannot express the gratitude that my heart feels for you helping me to create Jack Rigel.  He is the greatest gift I have ever received.  He embodies the very best parts of both of us and I know you will play a major role in shaping him as a man.  The world needs more strong, caring, sensitive and brilliant men and there is no one better I can think of to make our son such a man.  Thank you for the late night diaper changes and strolls around the house as I tried to get some sleep.  I know you will treasure those times with him, even when both of us thought we might lose our minds from lack of sleep.  I love you so much.  Thank you for making me a mom.

On Thursday night, I'll pack up  my lunch, I'll make sure my breast pump is ready to go, I'll lay out those pants and I'll disregard the number on the tag.  I'll cuddle my baby and pray that he's proud of me.  On Friday, Trevor becomes a stay at home dad.  I love how excited he gets when he talks about the things he wants to do with Jack this summer.  My two amazing men, how did I ever get so lucky?  On Friday I'll return to the loving embrace of my coworkers, many of them mothers themselves.  I will be wrapped up in support and encouragement.  Friday will be the first day I go to work without Jack.  For 9 months he accompanied me to every meeting and class I taught.  I'll miss him kicking me during meetings, I won't miss the heartburn or the frequent bathroom trips.

To my fellow moms out there who work outside of the home, I am so proud to join your ranks.  I wouldn't trade places with anyone in the world right now since that would mean not being a mother to this amazing creature, who right now is sleeping on the couch next to me.  God, let me be conscious of it all.

A few nights ago, I came downstairs to catch Trevor holding Jack in his lap as they watched an episode of Trevor's beloved show, "Firefly".  I laughed.  "Turning our son into a little sci-fi geek, eh?  Aren't you glad we had a little boy?"  Trevor turned to me and said, "I'm glad we had Jack." 

I'm glad I have them both.

 Picture mail sent to me on my first day back at work

The Birth Story

Birth Story (n): The tale of how a pregnant woman gets a baby out from under her ribs into the waiting hands of a doctor who has gotten way too familiar with her insides without even buying her dinner first.

Once you give birth, other mothers ask you for your birth story.  They want to know what happened, how fast it happened and how much crying and screaming was involved from both you and your husband.  So now I have a birth story which I am willing to share with the many mamas who have asked.  Warning- this tale involves birthing a child.  If this doesn't interest you, do not proceed.  Parental guidance is suggested.

Wednesday January 5th started out like any other day, I went to work, made plans for the weekend, which involved eating meals with various friends.  I even changed Peanut's nickname to Prize Winning Watermelon- ironic now considering he was only 5 lbs 14 oz.  That size watermelon would clearly not win any prizes.  It may even get mistaken for a cantaloupe which I realize now would have been the more appropriate melon.

And then the contractions started.  How to explain contractions.  Imagine someone is taking your insides and wringing them out like a wet towel but the towel keeps getting wet, like for starters, every 15 minutes or so.  And you just keep thinking, "GOOD GOD ISN'T THAT TOWEL DRY YET?"

Wednesday evening, Trevor and I were treated to a lovely dinner with our good friend Lily and her parents.  We were at Martini's for about 2 hours and I had about 6 contractions in that time.  Thank God for the healing powers of meatballs.  I remember thinking to myself "ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, mmmmm meatballs, ow, ow, ow, ow....oooh cannoli!"  On the way home, I was feeling uncomfortable and thought maybe I should start timing these contractions, you know, just for practice.

My amazing modern day husband had the fantastic thought to check his Smart Phone for a Contraction Timer app.  Guess what?  There's an app for that!  It measures the length and frequency of your contractions.  That phone stayed in bed with me all night as I timed out my still very irregular contractions.  Thursday morning came and I was feeling pretty exhausted from spooning my husband's phone all night timing contractions.  I texted my amazing sympathetic boss letting her know I'd be working from home that day due to my insides feeling like pulled pork.  I continued to monitor the contractions using the sassy new app we found and they were steady but nothing too close together.

Friday January 7th.  Wow.  Texted my boss again saying I might be a little late and she just wrote back recommending I stay home.  I am very glad she did.  When I woke up that day, I had no idea it was to be my son's birthday.  When I say that most of that day feels like a blur it's only because Jack was completely determined to be born that day no matter what.

Around 10:00 that morning I made a bowl of oatmeal.  The contractions weren't letting up although they were still anywhere between 8 and 12 minutes apart.  I finally decided to call the OB/GYN who recommended I come in for an exam just to see how things were progressing.  After a super quick shower Trevor and I were headed to Bronson, bags packed in the car...you know, just in case.

Around 12:30 I got my exam.  I was 3 cm dilated and 100% effaced.  When the doctor pronounced me 100% effaced I felt like I should get a trophy.  She seemed so proud of me like me and my little body had accomplished a major feat.  She said that she wouldn't be surprised if he came by the end of the weekend.  Oh good I thought, a couple days to make sure everything is ready!  After strapping me to a fetal heart rate monitor to check the contractions and the baby's heartbeat she sent me to the Labor and Delivery building because the monitor in her office wasn't giving accurate readings.  Around 2pm, strapped to yet another monitor in the L&D triage, Trevor and I made small talk.  We talked about cool days for our baby to be born.  We decided to look up famous people born that weekend.  January 8th boasted some impressive folks- Stephen Hawking, David Bowie, Sarah Polley, cool quirky brilliant people.  We looked up January 7th just for fun.  And who did we find?  Nicolas Cage and Dustin "Screech" Diamond.  Ha!  (Insert irony here) Well good thing our kid probably wasn't coming that day.  (Clearly God was trying to find a way to redeem 1/7 and chose our son to do it)  Trevor and I talked about what we'd have for dinner that night, joked and laughed and just tried to pass the time.  I went down for an ultrasound to check fluid levels.  The tech had to stop 3 times to wait for my contractions to subside.  Hmm, they were feeling more intense...

After another exam and a 5 hour stay in triage, I was still at 3 cm, but feeling weird.  The nurse gave me an Ambien to help me sleep.  That Ambien is still sitting on our dresser in its wrapper and no it's not for sale and no I won't give it to you because that's wrong and illegal and the internet knows everything.  On our way out, I stumbled a bit in the midst of a contraction.  The nurse, who, in voice alone reminded me VERY much of Edie McClurg told me in her folksy "hiya" kind of way that she wouldn't be surprised to see me later that night again.  Trevor helped me back to the car.  Now here's where the story gets magical.  Apparently there is a leprechaun that lives in a pothole on Portage Road.  He is able to dilate pregnant women.  This is my only explanation, I am not a doctor.

We got back home around 5:30 and I was starting to feel sick.  I stood up, I laid down, nothing could ease the pain.  Finally, I put on some blue sweatpants of Trevor's and the Hello Kitty sweatshirt my mom got me in 9th grade.  When I opened that sweatshirt at age 15 I never thought it would be the outfit I'd travel to the hospital with to give birth.  Apropos I suppose since at that moment I felt like a little blubbery girl.  I got into a fetal position on my bed cradling a body pillow while my devoted, wonderful husband coached me through my breathing, gave me water and, trusty phone in hand, timed my extremely intense contractions.  For an hour and a half I laid there as the contractions got more intense and closer together.  Finally after one that seemed to last 8 years, I told Trevor in a shaky voice, "I think it's time to call the doctor."  He told the doctor that my contractions were now 3-4 minutes apart lasting 1-2 minutes.  He told me to come right in.

*Note- if you choose to use an OB/GYN practice with many doctors, be sure you make every attempt to meet them all and get to know them.  You won't know who's on call when you deliver.  If you don't you'll end up like me and meet the man who would deliver my son on the night he delivered my son.  But more on Dr. Lomax later...**

Trevor dropped me off at the door, I could barely stand but sitting didn't feel so hot either.  We slowly made our way to the elevator until I collapsed against a column in the lobby and a kindly Bronson staff member who I will call Mr. Awesome asked if we needed a wheelchair.  I mumbled something incoherently and Trevor said, "Umm yeah, we better."  Mr. Awesome wheeled one right over to us.  Trevor zipped me through the lobby as I writhed around in the chair.  Some lady who I will call Mrs. OHMYGODSHUTUPLADY chuckled and said, "Oh I know where you're going!  I did it many times myself."  If at that moment I could speak I would have yelled, "WANNA DO IT AGAIN FOR ME????  IF NOT SHUT UP AND GET OUT OF THE WAY!"

We made it upstairs, checked in.  They asked me to pee in a cup.  Do not ask me why.  Was it for a pregnancy test?  Is there anything at that moment that could be gleaned from my pee aside from the fact that a head was about to poke out of me?  Nurse Edie McClurg saw me go past in my wheelchair and said in her plucky Wisconsin-esque accent, "I knew I'd see you again tonight!"  "Oh really??" I wanted to yell.  Then why did you give me an Ambien thinking I could possibly sleep though this medieval torture currently happening in my uterus??"  So yes, I was that pregnant women who wanted to rip faces off of people, but only well meaning strangers.  Trevor made it through the entire process unscathed, I promise!

They got me a bed and had me change into a gown.  Bye bye Hello Kitty sweatshirt, thank you for your sweet face to take my mind off of the pain.  2 weeks earlier I found out I had tested positive for Group B strep, a bacteria that many women carry that poses no harmful side effects, but could be harmful for babies which meant that I'd need to get an IV of penicillin right away.  After a quick exam the nurse said, "You're at 7cm!!"  She was amazed.  I had gone from 3 to 7 cm in 2 hours.  Like I said, thank you Portage Road Dilating Leprechaun, you saved the day!

Things started moving quickly as I headed into transition labor.  They had to get the penicillin started.  Then the big question- "Do you know if you want an epidural?"  I think Trevor saw the look of pure panic and fear in my face.  He very calmly said, "She doesn't want one, but might be keeping her options open."  They told me if I wanted one it would have to be right away.  He turned to me, looked me right in the eyes and said, "I support you no matter what you decide, but I really think you can do it without one."  I just nodded.  My hero.

They wheeled me away to Delivery Room #9.  I remembered because it's Trevor's lucky number.  That must be a good sign.  By now it was around 7:30.  Me and my shadow AKA my IV tried standing through the contractions, then I got into a warm bath which helped a bit.  The nurse who was absolutely amazing remained calm and along with Trevor coached me and helped me.  Trevor stayed by my side the entire time reminding me to breathe.  She had me sit on the toilet to try a couple of practice pushes.  Don't worry, Jack wasn't delivered in the toilet.

I finally made it back to the bed for show time.  Dr. Lomax entered the room, a smooth talking Southern gentleman who was all business.  My kind of doctor.  I said, "Nice to meet you, I was supposed to be seeing you on Tuesday for a regular checkup."  Oh well, nothing like getting to know a guy by having him look up your lady parts.  I looked up at my nurse the way I imagine a wounded soldier looked up at Florence Nightingale and in a faint voice asked, "how much longer?"  The nurse assured me that I was moving at lightning speed.  Before I knew it, I was at 10cm and the pushing began.  So many women have told me that pushing was so great, that it felt good.  Let me be the first to call shenanigans on that one.  Pushing HURTS.  It's a different kind of pain than contractions, but make no mistake, it's not a walk in the park.  And it's not like in the movies.  I didn't sweat and scream and threaten to murder my husband.  Dr. Lomax praised my pushing.  I have always been an overachiever and certainly didn't leave it at the delivery room door.  I pushed like my life depended on it.  I pushed like crazy, I pushed and pushed so anxious and eager to meet my son, knowing full well that in a matter of minutes I would be sharing him with the world.  He was no longer my little secret nestled inside of me.  As I felt his body move slowly down and out from me, I was determined to not let those emotions prevent me from getting him swiftly and safely into this world.  After about 40 minutes of pushing, I felt a huge release and then heard the crying.  First from Jack and then from me.

I will say this about a drug free birth, and make no mistake, having gone through it, I do understand why women choose pain relief.  I went into this entirely open to any possibility but would I have another drug free birth?  Absolutely.  The intense wave of euphoria, the sheer rush of adrenaline, the overwhelming endorphin rush was something unlike anything I have ever experienced.  I couldn't have done it without Trevor.  When I heard Jack cry for the first time, I wept.  I blubbered.  Tears streamed down my cheeks.  I looked over at Trevor who was also crying.  I couldn't see my boy yet, I looked down and saw tiny fingers and toes waving in the air as the doctor unwrapped his umbilical cord which hung loosely around his neck.  I looked over at Trevor who cut the cord and within a few minutes they placed my baby boy, my son on my chest.  Tears fell from my cheeks onto his arms, his first bath.  I hugged him and stared into his face for the first time.  "Happy Birthday baby!"

5 lbs, 14 oz, 19 1/4" long.  No prize watermelon to be sure, but all mine.  My mom came in shortly after followed by Uncle Cris.  We hugged for the first time as equals, both fully aware of the change in our relationship.  We're both moms now.  We both understand on the deepest level possible what it feels like to love a little stranger unconditionally.

My new little family was wheeled to the recovery room.  My mom ran down to get us some dinner.  That 10am oatmeal was the last thing I had eaten.  She got me a turkey sandwich, it was the best meal of my life.

My life changed on January 7, 2011 at 11:21pm.  Not many milestones come that precise. So here we are, 10 days into the world, a brand new family.  I don't get much sleep but the sleep I do get is heavenly.  Jack is the best baby with the sweetest disposition, the loveliest smile and the brightest eyes.  In the wee small hours of the morning as I breastfeed him I talk to him and tell him about life.  I call him my little bird.  I am keenly aware of how fleeting these moments are and I try to treasure them.  When I look over bleary eyed and see Trevor changing his diaper at 4am talking sweetly to him I fall in love with him all over again.

I know how unbelievably, extraordinarily blessed I am, there's no other way to put it.  That's my birth story.  The story of the birth of our family and how with a lot of pain, the warmth and compassion of my husband and my trusty Hello Kitty sweatshirt, I became a mom.

Oh Baby!

"Making the decision to have a child is momentous.  It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body."

You really understand the meaning of that quote when you get a notification on your Facebook wall that your baby who is now 37 weeks old, considered full term, and could come at any time, is about to vacate the sacred spot beneath your heart where he's been living and enter the world.

A friend's mom told me that being pregnant was the happiest time for her because her boys were like her little buddies, they were always with her- constant companions.  She knew that it was the only time in their lives she'd be able to protect them.  Carrying my son has been such an honor, I know he's already a wonderful person, but I'd  be lying if I told you there weren't times when Trevor and I are sitting together, watching a movie, eating dinner, driving to the store or just enjoying the quiet while we read in bed where I don't get a twinge of sadness knowing that our time alone is coming to an end.  It's not for lack of desire to have a family, it's more the acknowledgment that something very big is about to change for us and "us" up to this point has been really great.

But then I look at Trevor's face when he spies a toy at the store that he thinks would be perfect for our baby.  How excited he gets when he talks about how he wants to help him develop and learn and become curious about the world.  I remind myself that it's not a stranger who's about to enter our house, but this glorious, miraculous extension of both of us.  In bringing this baby into the world, it feels like I've tied a ribbon onto the end of a javelin and thrown it years and years into the future.  I can see that ribbon stretch far into the future as this beautiful person- this baby that we've created grows older and, hopefully, brings new life into the world that wouldn't be here were it not for me and his dad.  Having a baby is the closest any of us may get to immortality.

But for now, as I sit here, I feel his little feet tapping against me.  He squirms and wiggles.  He is in tune with my every emotion.  When I start to get worried because I haven't felt him move in awhile, right on cue, I get a nudge.  In a few weeks I will be celebrating his birthday for the first time.  I will have to let him go for the first time.  And if we are fortunate enough to go through this again, it will be his brother or sister I'll be letting go.  But as that javelin keeps flying into the future, I know I'm not alone watching it sail over my head.  I've got Trevor right beside me.  I'm not losing "us" at all, I'm just sharing the best part of us with the world.  And right now that best part of us is making himself ready to join us on this spinning globe and take some trips, hopefully many trips, around the sun.

And I get to have a front row seat with Trevor for all of it.  It will be the very best show either of us has ever been a part of.